White-tailed Eagle
by LawrenceSnake
Summary: After the war for our existence, the Hunter is remade in pulchritude. She's never found a home to call her own, though she has had many families. And 'one' agenda. Protect the future of sentient-kind, against any threat. But perhaps she longs for peace... at least for a little while. Until something crawls out from the dark to persecute those she loves. To them I say: time to pray.


_Disclaimer: Respective characters and properties belong to Gunpei Yokoi,(R.I.P), Makoto Kano and Joanne Katherine Rowling._

_Dedicated to my brother, Duncan Orlando. Reach for the Stars.  
_

**White Tailed Eagle**

* * *

**The Woman Who Died**

_We are infinitesimal. The smallest and the largest beings to have ever lived. Tiny, mortal, divine... Yet _we_ have given consciousness to the Universe. Through ideas and perspectives, beliefs and observances. We, as a whole, are God. Or maybe the entirety of creation - both animate and inanimate as a unified entity - is God. I wouldn't know... I've lived too long... Right now I'm nothing. Stardust and Radiance fields catapulted through the singularity point at the end of the greatest war our galaxías kýklos had - or would ever experience._

_My mind plays tricks on me. If it can still be called that... I've reached beyond the mundane before - but this is a whole new level. A whole _new_ mission._

_The madmen philosophers and addled mystics got one thing right though. We are more than crude matter, or maybe only some of us can be... I'm off topic. Apologies. Oh yes! Biology may call most of the shots, but I've trusted in the bending of the laws of physics since I was three years old. We can do anything. _Anything_ we can imagine. I am dead. But I've died many times before._

_And Death and I - Well... Let's just say we have an understanding...  
_

* * *

_The Sol System, GSD 4.6 000 000 000 CXV, Planet Gaia, Local Julian Calendar: May 23rd, 1947 CE. _

The curvature of the sphere was barely illuminated by the young yellow star reacting light years away. Upon her dark and light faces there was not a single object to be found among the upper dusky blue atmosphere which blanketed her denizens. It would be six years until the Soviets launched Sputnik 1 and in turn launch the Space Race, and Humanity, to the next step of their inexorable evolution.

But now, a legend and a ghost would prove testament to their future success. A child returning home. Fully grown... And lost.

Among the twinkling balls of life issued one that moved at a speed beyond description. Neon cyan and glowing with the power and energy of a lost race. It flared mightier than the sun as it eclipsed the event horizon of Mother Earth and, if possible, shone all the brighter as it streaked through the stratosphere; slowing against the chemical and magnetic blanket.

Gravity took over and began to pull the celestial object towards the Northern hemisphere while trailing a freshly oxygenated, flaming cobalt comet tail. Bio-luminescent rays illuminated the clouds a Persian green, sweeping them along in a cyclonic wake as the rapidly oscillating temperatures clashed with the free flowing ice crystals; eliciting lightning sparks that only added to the majesty of the scintillating meteor's glowing ablation route. Luckily for the sleeping populace of the British Isles - the shooting star was headed for a collision course with its polarizing attractor, a deep black lake in the heart of the Scottish highlands. Its dark waters thrumming with the liquid counter-stance that would stop an explosion capable of wiping out every last living thing on the surface of the planet.

Loch Dubh's nearly still skein shimmered and sparkled as the early morning night sky was split asunder. The great comet bathed the surrounding mountains and the imposing, crenelated castle with its brilliance, its travel marked with the sound of a million avalanches - woke nearly everyone from their beds.

While the following impact event certainly roused the rest as the newly christened meteorite struck the huge body of water. Trees in the nearby Toirmiscthe Forest were uprooted as the shock-wave not only sent a quarter of the lake's water pluming upwards in a hundred foot geyser but shattered several of the enchanted unbreakable windows in the keep's great hall.

In his high tower office, the immensely elderly Headmaster of Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Professor Armando Dippet - was sent rolling out of his own four poster. Not only due to the earthquake tremors shaking the building from battlement to dungeon depths; but due to the institute's wards being seamlessly bypassed with an immense magical backlash to his person.

"Merlin!" The geriatric warlock gasped, never in his three hundred years had he felt such _power_...

From within his oval study, he heard the office door swing open and the voice of his deputy, Albus Dumbledore, call out: "Armando! You have to see this!"

As fast as his wizened frame could carry him - Dippet threw on a robe over his nightshirt and staggered through the curtained partition of his sleeping quarters.

Albus's gaze was fixed out of the panes of the latticed glass main window. A turquoise glow reflecting off his startlingly sky blue eyes and long auburn beard. Dippet joined his taller colleague to see the black lake roiling with some great light emitting force; dull at the edges of the shore but positively burning with light at the centre - throwing an incredible ripple light fresco effect onto the ancient walls.

A column of super-heated steam rose from the loch. Dippet turned, wide-eyed and terrified to face a wary yet intrigued Dumbledore.

"What could have done this, Albus?" He gasped, clutching his heart.

Albus was pensive but his answering reply was tinged with that same maddening curiosity that caused him to look beyond the mundane of the Wizarding world... Not to mention why many considered him a dopey old loon.

"Something beyond our ken, Headmaster... With your permission I'll assemble Ogg and the rest of the faculty to investigate this anomaly. The selkies will surely aid us as well... If they haven't all been obliterated at ground zero."

"Oh good heavens!"

"It is _possible_. But I think not, Armando. We would have_ all_ been destroyed otherwise... No, I think a form of synthesis is taking place here - and the Black Lake is its crucible..."

Under the water there was an amorphous many blue-shaded orb of organic gel, alien mineral deposits and anti-matter charged energy fields congregating together. Looping and twisting, re-shaping and re-forming under an invisible sculptor's hand while casting distorted shadows over the sea bed; such was the intensity of its light-emitting properties. Currents of power vibrating outwards caused the Merpeople to hide at the entrances of their grotto's in superstitious awe.

Inside the castle, the Ravenclaw students got a birds-eye view of the event from their tower dormitories, while the Slytherins got an even better view from their lens-flaring, aquatic port-holed common room. Not that the Prefects could keep charge of _any_ of the awakened children, teenagers and young adults. Gryffindor and Hufflepuff weren't left out either; rushing to find the nearest South facing windows they could and press their young features against - to witness a spectacle like no other.

For now, the rim of the clouds moved at speed, the eye of god growing smaller as they darkened grey, then black, filling with precipitation before the heavens opened, releasing pouring rain, bolts of lightning touched the now turbulent lake; accompanied by rumbling thunder moments later.

Deep below, the mass coalesced into a white-blue glowing nervous system and three-nuclei, six hemisphere, interconnected brains. The blood-delivery circulatory system came next, followed by primary organs of formidable size and healthy robustness. Large particles drew up skeletal support, density unparalleled as well as cartilage, sinew, tendons, small bones, bizarre membranous muscle groups where digestive tracts and secondary organs would be located on any normal Hominid were omitted in favour of resilient and in-humanly flexible cell structures. Light flowed through the being's veins and under new skin as it covered hard flesh, subcutaneous tissue molded to anatomical perfection, pathways connecting to diamond hard, short finger and toe nails, along with the sharp, slightly angled, _dangerous_ features of an apex predator.

The woman. For she had rock solid curves at her hips and chest despite being as lean as a young honey badger, with perfect, unmoving proportions that would make Aphrodite herself jealous of this creature. Yes, she was beautiful; in the same way a snow leopard or a timber wolf was beautiful.

Her magnificent, supine, naked form drifted into a foetal position. Epidermis smoothly transitioning between the opaque solidarity of a mammal and the translucency of the Phylum Cnidaria. Eventually the light show faded to nearly nothing. With just the slightest pulses momentarily highlighting arteries and capillaries. Across her bald skull, a fuzz the colour of barley wheat at sunset was already beginning to spread, lengthening until golden locks hung to the small of her back. Her skin as unmarred as a babe's; free of goosebumps.

Any and every creature in that freezing cold water didn't _dare_ approach, even while unconscious and sedentary, what they instinctively knew this female animal to be.

The top of the food chain.

Slowly but surely, natural buoyancy began to draw her up to the rain scorched surface. Tossed on the waves, the party of teachers and support staff could just see the figure through the driving wet bullets. They were helming three magical boats usually reserved for the first years' induction to the sorting ceremony so as to retrieve the stranger - while the students with personal Omnioculars were badgered to pass them around.

Albus cast a levitation charm but to his surprise, the woman did not float from the lake; all their water-repelling enchantments had been disrupted as well by whatever wavelength the comet had produced. Resulting in them all being as bedraggled as the star nymph.

Instead it took both the ogrish groundskeeper, Ogg and his assistant, half-giant Rubeus Hagrid to lift her into the boat, where the deputy head conjured a blanket to cover the poor dear. Who was still completely out of it. In the dark, Albus could not see if she had visible injuries but when he attempted to light his wand tip, the Lumos flashed into static form and its accompanying jolt caused him to fumble and drop the branch of Elder. Upon retrieving it from where it had rolled up to the gunwale, the baton seemed to warm in proximity to the stranger and grow colder when taken away...

_"Who is this woman? _What_ is she...?"_ He mused as Galatea Merrythought passed him the boat's lantern to better see their mysterious guest. She was a very distinctive looking human being; one you wouldn't fail to notice in the street - and yet she seemed to posses the air of someone who could remain hidden from view if she so wished. It was times like these he thought, (while he tucked her in with an extra blanket and overhead canvas tarp to keep the rain off her.) That he was extremely glad that his youthful indiscretions with Gellert had remanded him a doddery asexual eccentric.

Soon enough, they had reached the castle and proceeded to take the female straight to the hospital wing. On a stretcher carried between six of the younger and stronger Professors. She was _a lot_ heavier than she seemed. Students were bouncing up and down to get a good look at the woman who fell to earth but were all soon shepherded back to their dormitories by members of staff.

Hogwarts's current physician, the kindly, brown bearded Healer, Évariste Lamar, quickly ushered the party to the nearest gurney. Once they laid the woman down, and had left him alone with his patient; the French Wizard cast a suite of diagnostic spells to ascertain her condition. All of them turned up blank. Undeterred, Lamar used a custom foe-glass to scan for hidden curses that could be affecting her, eventually he detected a nodule of magical energy embedded in the broad, taut muscles of the woman's back; underneath where the scapula joined the collarbone. It started to glow, a red circle of dull vein show-casing light; similar to when one shines a torch up close to one's finger-tips.

Whilst the rest of the staff waited outside the clinic, Lamar sanitized the area with antiseptic potion and muttered: "Diffindo." Surprisingly still, nothing happened. With no other recourse, he turned to the Muggle method. His ordinary scalpels bent and dulled against her skin as well, it took one of Goblin manufacture to finally make the first incision. The golden haired female was silent and unmoving throughout the operation, though Lamar had plied her with local anesthetic; just in case.

Ever so carefully, the Hogwarts doctor removed a small golden, oval yet thick disc from underneath her flesh with a pair of forceps - and dropped the strange amulet in a metal tray. Before he could apply concentrated Dittany, the wound sealed itself, flecks of blood evaporating as if they had never been there. The healer took a step back, his brain refusing to believe what his eyes had just shown him. No humanoid creature he knew of could recover_ that_ quickly.

After indeed confirming that the wound was utterly gone, Lamar exited the curtained cubicle and begun to run the talisman under a jet of water from the sink, most washed off, what gore remained dissolved of its own accord.

The amulet was curved at the corners and intricately carved with a multitude of glyphs, patterns, even tiny etchings on both sides - and at the centre, there was what appeared to be a lightning bolt 'S' symbol; full of even tinnier lettering. On the reverse side was a circular collection of twelve different sized, geometric runes coming together to make a whole. Curious, Lamar retrieved his medical foe-glass and examined the artifact up-close. Though it revealed no hidden grammyre, suddenly, every hair-thin vein of the minute scripture began to glow a Kelly green, momentarily dazzling the physician through the telescopic lens.

He turned the artifact away and as he did, it beamed one sentence of misty luminous script onto the wall. Évariste couldn't make heads or tales of the lime neon scratchings, but the strange device certainly proved that this woman was a rare and powerful sorceress to have crafted such an artifact - not to mention her other unusual abilities...

Pursing his lips, Lamar stepped out of his office and headed over to his patient. He drew back the curtain.

She was gone.

But not for long.

He hadn't even heard her footsteps, she may have been barely coherent but she was _fast_. And _inhumanly_ strong. The doctor was seized from behind and swung, or was he thrown? The impact was colossal - into the nearby wall - the stone colliding with the back of his head. Dimly he realized that she was roaring in a language he couldn't comprehend while pulling him off his feet. When iron fingers closed around his throat he attempted to shout in English, hoping to calm the woman. Though her choking him made his cries come out strangled.

"You're _safe!_ This is a - school! You were in the lake! We - we pulled you out!"

Pinned and bent backwards over a tall filing cabinet, a large talon of a hand cutting off Lamar's air supply - the woman glared at him; with eyes that had seen far too much. Demanding and questing in that strange tongue of hers.

An idea sprang to the forefront of Évariste's now swimming mind as black spots began to dance in front of his vision, he repeatedly spluttered out a quick phrase in the first foreign language that popped into his oxygen-starved mind. Slovenian.

"Jaz sem prijatelj! Jaz sem prijatelj!" _{"I'm a friend! I'm a friend!"}_

To his surprise, she released him instantly.

He slumped onto all fours, shaking all over before delivering several sharp coughs in relief. He could see that the tall stranger was moving past him. She crouched suddenly as if she were a large cat ready to pounce, muscle bunches standing out in high relief against her skin; like fine blades etched softly into water-tamped velvet. No-one had even been able to _dry_ her magically.

Lamar turned to see Minnie McGonagall out of bed, the tawny haired Scottish lass had been in the wing due to a Qudditch run-in with a bludger, a roll of bandages wrapped around the twelve year old's crown. But the nearly teenage girl, such an exact and rigid student even among her elderly peers was displaying her comparative youth while she stood and stared - clutching a tartan teddy; understandably frightened of this strange human creature who had been strangling a member of staff and who was now viewing her with a quizzical tilt of her golden-maned head.

The woman spoke quietly, soothingly: "Ná bíodh eagla ort, leanbh. Tá siad ag imithe, tá muid saor in aisce." Lamar did not know a word of Gaelic, and Minnie frowned at the newcomer's statement, though it's sincerity seemed to calm her enough to make her take an inquisitive step forward. Mesmerized.

The woman towered over Minnie even while sat on her haunches, balanced as she was on the tips of her toes. It was as if gravity didn't have the same pull on her form. She extended a ropey arm slow but sure and offered an outstretched hand to the student while the healer could only watch this strange transition.

The unknown Saviour of the Universe sighed in happiness as the child took her hand. Contact of a peaceful nature ensuring she was still a part of something wholesome and right, everything that was _worth_ protecting.

Within moments the girl was asleep again in her hospital bed and the woman sat on the edge of her own. Clothed in shadow.

"Where am I." She posited. Harsh, a command. She possessed no discernible accent.

"The British Isles. Scotland." Évariste rubbed his neck tenderly.

"Huh, these surroundings... What year is it?"

"... Nineteen, forty seven. But why would you nee - "

"I am sorry about our altercation, my mind was not as lucid as usual and my thoughts are _still_ not completely clear. Forgiveness must be asked if I hurt you."

"Think nothing of it, occupational hazard." Then, remembering, he drew out the strange token from his pocket. "This was in your back, can you tell me what it is?"

She observed the medallion critically and before Lamar could blink she had snatched it from his hand. "Yes, I think I could - but I won't. This is - precious to me."

Within the next second she was stood tall as if to leave, Lamar plucked up his renewing courage and spoke up to her.

"My dear, please. You've just been through an awful ordeal. You need to rest."

She came to a curious halt at his concern, then sat down once more, slowly. With that same deliberate purpose. She made the simple motion look like an extreme act of defiance and he knew without a doubt that she was humoring him. This was a woman who did not know the meaning of sloth. The Hogwarts medicine man pulled the bed covers over her to preserve her modesty, a fact that seemed to amuse her further. Though she seemed to be in the prime of her life, she had extensive laughter creases that sometimes popped into life; as if remembering how to express themselves.

"Very good. Now, I am Dr. Évariste Lamar, healer of this fine institution, what is your name, ma chère?"

" - I ..." Her emotionless features had collapsed into a momentary blanch of fear as her crow's eyes stood out hard then softened. But it was so quick Lamar wondered if he had imagined it.

"What's your name?" He stated insistently, then with a more gentle timbre he repeated his question softly: "... What's your name?"

"I - I don't remember... Oh, Shallah..." She began to speak in frenzied gibberish, alternating languages a mile a minute, small nick-knacks and even some beds began to levitate; much to Lamar's consternation; before she fell away in a dead faint.

* * *

"Évariste," Dumbledore said in a hushed voice as his old friend from the Second World War exited the hospital wing. "What news?"

"She is a strange one. I can't determine anything for certain. Her physiology seems to reject most of the Power's ambiance despite having an accidental magical episode of her own. On top of all this she has a moderate case of retrograde amnesia regarding the very foundation of her distinct personality - Apart from that she is - very well adjusted; all things considering."

"Could she be a threat to us, to the students?"

"Perhaps... She nearly broke my spine. The dame is as strong as a half-giant; stronger, even."

Albus stroked his beard, inferring... "Could she have had military training?" He knew of only a few people, (apart from himself,) that had had such presence and self-command, not to mention being participant to such large-scale magical experimentation. This was the only feasible reason Albus knew of to explain her disruptive, and hopefully temporary, influence on wand-lore.

"Hard to say. I doubt she'd tell us off the bat. She's inordinately intelligent for one; an omniglot if I'm not mistaken. Probably your equal if not your superior at language translation. Even that small piece of information is illuminating. She's multi-talented, resourceful, charismatic. Dangerous..."

"I can't wait to meet her!" Albus twinkled inanely, rubbing his hands together.

When they re-entered the ward, they were both surprised to find their guest clinging to the wall above the double doors after about ten minutes of frantic searching. She sat against the twenty five foot wall with her feet and buttocks planted like you or I would lie on the floor, arms rested on toned thighs - her astonishing dark cerulean malachite streaked eyes absorbing every detail.

If Albus had to guess, he would have said she was in her late thirties to mid-forties judging by the age lines around her eyes but he was reminded that one should never judge a book by its cover. For one, Albus himself would be sixty six in a few months and didn't look a day over thirty five discounting his waist length beard. The second most apparent factor to take into account: was the fact that her still naked form radiated a spiritual vigour that wasn't quite aligned with the forces of most magic, but for a distinguished Aura Reader such as he, was overwhelming compared to most magical cores. No intrinsically arcane manipulation would affect her. He had thought the lake full of this alien power after the meteorite had melted into its depths but the individual observing him from on high was in fact the very source of these wave lengths!

"If you wake the girl. You _will_ leave." She stated dispassionately.

"Good evening, my dear. Perhaps, if you would be so kind as to come down. We could confer even more quietly?"

She didn't budge.

" - What _is_ this place?"

"You are in my school for the gifted. A school of _magic_."

"Magic. A word for scientific fields one can't comprehend. You understand it, don't you, teacher?"

"Very intimately, yes."

"Then it's _not_ magic."

"Well, you have me there, my good woman, but we truly have no other word for it, I'm afraid."

"I see. _This_ - is not familiar to me."

"You are not a Witch?"

"Not to my knowledge."

"You are a Muggle?"

"Beg your pardon?"

"A Muggle, a _non-magical_ human being."

Though her features remained impassive, her following words carried warning and weight. "That sounds like a racial slur... Never utter it in my presence again. And no; I do not think I can claim to be that _either_. One should be careful not to segregate into absolutes."

"Then you have found a like-minded personality. Évariste here tells me that you have displayed abilities most... obscure..."

The golden lady descended and explained what she knew of her own happenings. They were cryptic to say the least. Wrapped in half-truths and misdirections. She did not react like most Muggles would when confronted with a Transfiguration example of their abilities or a Conjuration of clothing. A look of polite puzzlement crossed her face when she point-blank refused to wear the robes they offered her, stating that she was acclimatizing to energy currents within the castle and could map her surroundings better without. She said this with such seriousness that both men could only accede. At least until Madame Pompfrey, Lamar's protegee and eventual replacement, nearly re-woke the faculty upon seeing their patient walking around in the buff.

Somewhat irately, their mysterious stranger materialized a pair of olive khaki trousers and a white tank top, as well as a black corduroy jersey with synthetic grey shoulder patches. The garments hugged her frame far too tightly for the prudish practitioner's comfort. But they were _greatly_ appreciated by one of the males present. She still walked, silent and bare-footed around the wing and would sometimes scale the walls and perform balance beam gymnastics on the vaulted ceiling rafters, cup an ear to the walls or floors like a Plains Native American, she even tasted the stone dust rubbed off a column with her index finger. Upon which she determined the exact age of the West Wing down to when the keystone had been laid.

Introductions followed, the stranger was polite enough. Though when he presented several others that had been present in her retrieval, including the maintenance team, Professor Diggle of Muggle Studies and the matron in more than a customary instigation, the woman couldn't contain herself.

"Let me understand... Daedalus Diggle?" She pointed at the man quickly, "Poppy Pompfrey?" Acknowledging the nurse with a click of her fingers. She turned to Dumbledore. "Even the girl's name is Minerva McGonagall. So what do they call you? Bumble Bee?" She sniffed in good humour. "This is the dumbest thing I've ever heard. I'm out of here."

She moved to exit the wing, only for the Keeper of Keys to stand in her path, his chest thrown out. Though he was seven foot eight, it was the nameless stranger who seemed to tower over him personality-wise.

"So you're Ogg, huh?" She seized his lapels before anyone could blink and lifted him clean off the floor to everyone's accompanying horror: she brought her face offensively close to the massive skull of the groundskeeper. "You want to get out of my way?" She stage-whispered. The ogre gulped, looking to the deputy for help. Diplomatic as always, Dumbledore managed to get their guest to put his staff member down and agree to stay at Hogwarts for a little longer while she recovered.

"I don't _need_ medical attention."

"Of course. But you must surely be hungry after your ordeal."

"Thank you for the charity but it's not necessary."

"Well I'll have to _insis_t, my dear. Please, indulge me."

She raised a tuft yet sharp eye-brow at his offer, before an idle shrug signaled an acceptance of Wizarding hospitality. Before long, the school's House Elves had brought her and the headmaster plates of half a braised duck in plum sauce, served with red and yellow peppered couscous and buttery garlic mushrooms. Albus only had to look away for a moment before their mystery stranger inhaled the whole meal silently. He chuckled as she stared at her spit clean dish somewhat guiltily.

Albus indulged her quirks, lord knows he had enough of his own, asking her questions all the while: where did she come from? Why was she here? How did she keep her hair in such excellent condition? Though she could not answer the first two, she stated that her powers seemed to keep her well groomed and consistently clean if she so wished. In fact, there was not much she _couldn't_ do with her wandless magic, from the urbane to astonishingly complex manipulations of the temporal and metaphysical world. She proved this well enough when, on her second day in the castle, she stopped Peeves from pranking her, nearly dissolving his 'ectoplasmic incarnation with dark energy molecule warping.' Whatever that meant. The fact that the poltergeist was now more respectful of her than the Headmaster or even the Bloody Baron, left her very popular with the children who would seek her protection from the malevolent spirit. Accordingly, the brilliant old Wizard determined that she was a foreign magic-user of prodigious strength and intellect and could hardly contain himself from wanting to place her on the staff immediately.

But his guest would not accede to anything until her memories were returned and or at the very least; knew her own name once more. That - and she was an explorer of the highest order. For the first week, the stranger unearthed the topography of the entire state and grounds, mapping secret passage-ways, invisible doors and ever-shifting rooms. She would go for long treks through the dales and rough terrain around the castle, sometimes alone, or accompanied by Ogg and Hagrid. The students found her a joy, for she was drawn to any instances of bullying and could stop the perpetrators cold by her presence alone. None would challenge a person who could call Peeves 'Jingle-boy'. Sometimes, standing in the courtyard for morning break they would see her clambering up the misted battlements with frightening grace, even leaping huge distances from spire to gargoyle steps, though it was a rare occurrence that she let herself be seen. Albus remembered in those early days, two instances most vividly: One being the morn where she balanced by one arm at a nigh-impossible angle from the astronomy tower's weather-vane and began to exercise placidly with contained, serene power. And two, when she dived nude into the Black Lake and swam fifty laps of the great body of ice water without even tiring.

Intrigued, Albus and the staff tried their utmost to uncover their guest's past, but although her presence had lost the edge that blunted all other magic, she herself remained as resilient against all efforts to charm or coerce remembrance through both spells and potions. Much to her immediate consternation.

After twenty one days living at Hogwarts, Brian found Nameless poring over a collection of obscure texts in the restricted section of the library; he had discovered only a few days before when she had waited for him inside his warded office; that any enchantments or defensive magics, no matter how powerful, could be ignored by her. She was truly extraordinary.

"And how are we doing today, my dear?"

"... Fine." Nameless didn't even look up from where she stood over the charts and writings.

"You know dinner is already being served, you'll miss it again."

"Something I've noticed that is definitely different from my past; I don't need to eat at all. I only partake occasionally to make everyone else feel comfortable. Not that I don't appreciate the fare, it _is_ excellent. Pity the same can't be said for your tomes on astrology and astronomic phenomena, based on my last recollections I came from space."

"Astonishing..." Dumbledore whispered, although he couldn't say whether it was due to her outlandish conclusion or the paper he had just begun to make sense of. It was a massive parchment scroll stuffed full of fresh, elegantly written Arithmantic calculations, most of which even he could not make hide nor hair of.

"What do we have here. Did you write this? So it's all starting to come back, yes?"

"No, those calculations are like everything else, I find something and it just clicks into place. The same way I can perform advanced calculus for applications that supposedly don't even exist, I can reason, I can deduce, I can strategize - "

"Yes, yes, it is all coming back to you - "

"No-it's-not-coming-back-to-me-god-dammit-that's-the-point." Nameless snapped quietly, but with such clarity and power it might as well have been a guttural bellow of frustration. "I have been here for weeks, looking through all this - this _useless_ rubbish!" She punctuated by sweeping the scrolls and grimmoires off the workspace. "It's not working! I don't even know _what_ to look for!" The woman with no name calmed as fast as she had erupted, Albus tried to smile grimly as he helped her pick up the scattered material, all things considered; she looked somewhat ashamed by her lapse of control.

"Forgive me, Albus, that was out of turn."

"Nonsense, my dear. You have suffered more than most. That I _can_ see, an impossible grief that has strangled your remorse and hardened you against the world. But I have watched you these past few weeks, how you treat others around you and I _do_ know that you are of purest heart, no being of malign intent may enter these walls and, though I may flatter myself, I am absolutely sure of the unvarnished capacity for love that you possess, no-one can endure this life without it."

"Perhaps. Though you would probably think less of me if I told you how I perceive and utilize my own emotions. It was how I wished to be - and my - guardians - obliged... How... ?"

"You see? It _will_ come back."

"What if it doesn't? ... I can tell you the names, positions and serial prints of _every_ book in this library, I can tell you that the new caretaker, Apollyon Pringle, weighs two hundred and fifteen pounds and knows how to handle himself. I know the best places to find components to successfully construct a fully-functioning tier eight illegal firearm plus munitions are the potions laboratories and the inner-workings of that self-repairing clock tower of yours. And - at this altitude, I can run flat out for _six hundred miles_ before my hands start to shake. Now why would I know that? _How_, can I know _all that_ and _not_ know _who I am_?"

Dumbledore was silent for only a moment: "It seems to me then - that you would definitely know; _where_ to start looking."

* * *

Upon a high cliff at the heart of Toirmiscthe, Nameless studied the artifact she knew to be her's but for what purpose, she could not divine. Meditation followed, and after three hours of contemplation she looked upon the medallion with a fresher gaze, she concluded that Lamar had activated the device through close proximity to focused magic. Summoning a smidgen of her own telekinetic talents, she was rewarded with glowing scripture that infused every line. Nameless responded with the only tic she couldn't control, a feral yet twitching grin that lasted all of a half second, none who spoke with her could tell whether it was an expression of happiness or of pain. It was used so frequently in differing situations, otherwise she was a neutral mask.

Studying the beamed message, Nameless understood the language written instantaneously. The language of her true family and then the bits and pieces flew back into place; her mind beginning to truly recover from the reanimation of her body. Dextrous fingers found the hidden nanoscopic buttons along the grooved surface and within moments the piece of technology had expanded through dimensional compression to the size of two put together discus's; now here was a magic she understood well.

Neon mist hissed from every crevice as the device opened along several changing vectors, the complexity, breath-taking.

Nameless sat with crossed legs, feet upturned, resting the receptacle on her lap as she sorted through the wealth of content inside: what she was imminently drawn to were several chains adorned with metal stamped identification tags. She set them aside to pursue first; for the rest just seemed like old clutter in comparison. Eager as she was for a solid title to grasp onto.

However, to her annoyance the information upon them contradicted, some were etched with crude titles that boasted of bloody deeds and others yet seemed like grim trophies that didn't belong to anyone. But she did have a variety of female names to pick out from ID chips that just _had_ to be pseudonyms, for she liked them all: Dianne Greer, Yehuwdiyth Luigia, Claudia Rains, Soleil Jager, Ellen Hentschal, McKayla Adair and Akilina Yesfir to name just a few, the one that caught her eye, however, was a battle scarred military dog tag with the words: Shepard J. Aran, 5923-AC-2826, AB Positive, ESAMC, N7 Spec. Ops, SR-1.

That particular artifact incited more remembrance, a life of conflict and of war. And of truth.

Aran cataloged the rest of the items: An unbreakable piece of Tuchankan quartz that shone silver in the dark, a chunk of Aetherian solidified matter anti-matter, dubbed a light crystal. A beautiful ring composed of many rare-earth metals, one of such being platinum, a whetstone composed of petrified black Phazon. A beautifully embroidered bag full to bursting with a variety of seeds and collected herbs from many alien ecosystems. A thick sheaf of inflexible photographs and a Prothean memory capsule that still glowed minty energy wisps of contained recollections. Although she could sense her own brain patterns had been absorbed into the advanced ancient technology, Aran was not tempted to retrieve her past the fast and expedient way.

Instead, she explored the ambient traces retained within the Chozo relic, eventually activating a three-dimensional, teal monochrome map of the planet. Points on every continent and under every ocean were highlighted. Markers for sites of ancient alien activity long before Humanity was the dominant species to walk the Earth. At that moment, Samus knew what to do, the relic clipped to an invisible cybernetic tattoo on her broad back before being assimilated into her organism, within Aran was a contained power, stronger than the crushing forces at the core of Gaia, mightier than the magnetic seas scouring the atmosphere and more powerful than the lightning of heaven.

Technological scripts in a tongue only she could understand beamed instantly onto her retinas, and Samus Aran truly smiled for the first time since she had arrived. Things were about to get _very_ interesting...

**Main Bio-Nervous Circuit Restored. Power Connection At Optimal Radiance Field Capacity - Welcome - Samus Virginia Aran  
**

**Full Systems Review Initiated...**

**Chozo Battle Suit Ver. SA1-4468-VM7-P... Biometrics In Molecular Flux... Initializing... **

**Liquid Based Central Processing Unit: Active - Gathering Data... Two New Electrically Conductive Cerebrums Detected - Compensate For New Intel - ONLINE  
**

**Multiple Eye And Minute Muscular Targeting Systems: Active - Marshaling Auditory Filters - ONLINE **

**HUD Suite: Active - Adjusting To Earth Day & Night Cycle... Configuring Chronometer... Solar Histories Formatting - ONLINE **

**21.6 Quadrillion Pixel Resolution Camera Visors: Active - Responding... Synching With Perception Sensors - ONLINE **

**{Vision Modes: Psionic Scanner 'Glass' - Material Deep Analyzer 'Shard' - Heuristic Pin-Pointing And Digital Catalog Libraries [Chemistry - Biology - Physics - Zoological - Mechanical - Personal - Unknown] - Quantum Ionizer Shades 'Rad' - Spectral Dimension Rays 'Dark' - Sonar / Ladar Wave Emitters / Receivers 'Echo' - Infra Red Enhanced Imagery 'Heat' -**** Normal} **

**ERROR! MISSING SOLAR EXTRA-GALACTIC VESSEL UP-LINK - Remote Command Interface - OFFLINE - Currently In Hibernation  
**

**(Locating Mineral Lodes For Possible Ship Construction... Two Hundred & Seventeen Found)  
**

**Hacking Suite: Active - Scanning For IP Signatures... None Detected - 30KHz to 300GHz ****Radio Signal Interception & Telecommunications Transceiver - ONLINE **

**Dual Forearm Omni Tools: Active - Updating DNA Based Hardware & Software... Hard-Light Disposition and Mini-Facturing Assemblies - ONLINE **

**Nano Foundries: Active - Checking Earth Mantle For Nearest Equivalent To Possible Zebitite Alloys... Three Found - ONLINE **

**Biotic Implantation Nodes - Active - Infusion Adaptation of Element Zero Nano-Cores At 9679% Saturation - Unquantified Telekinetic Manipulation - ONLINE **

**Back Palm Mounted Sub-Zero Plasma / Energy Projector / Configuration Modules: Deployed - Inactive - Currently In Hibernation  
**

**{Possible Configurations: Various Shields - Bucklers - Knuckle Dusters - Lasso - Whip - Flail - Various Blades - Medium-Range Flame Thrower - Adhesive / Siphon Grapple}**

**Interchangeable Arm Cannons: Deployed - Inactive - Currently In Hibernation **

**Ammunition Module: Deployed - Inactive - Currently In Hibernation  
**

**{Listing Archived Beams - Plus Deployment Pneumonics: Power - Volt Driver - Charge Build-Up - Nova - Wide Swathe - Judicator - Cryo-Condenser - Plasma - Disruptor - Scatter-Shot - Wave - Imperialist - Taloric Grenades - Nohadin Gas Pellets - Hyper Wave Motion - Sonic - Mag-Maul - Impact Diffusion - Dark Energy - Matter-Anti Matter Warheads - Gatling Photon Rounds - Tractor - Urtragian Sulphuric Acid Darts - Nuclear Repeater - Annihilator Bursts - Biotic Gravity Gun - Discorporation Spheres - Entangler - Concussive - Slug Thrower} **

**Secondary Armaments: ********Deployed - Inactive - Currently In Hibernation {Listing... **Missile Launchers / Cannon Modules / Seeker Bays / Artillery Shoulder-Mounts / Side Knee - Back Palm & Twin Chest Sockets - Tectonic Quake Generator - Photonic Wrist Bayonets - Ultra-thermal Flame strike Projector - **Adaptive Charge Combos - Stream Buster - ****Concentrated Percolation Ultra Gauntlet (Singular Use Every Twenty Four Hour Earth Cycle)** Stacking Beam Matrix - (Missiles - Lensman Projections & Grenades)}

**Full Armour Lock: Engaged - Inactive - Currently In Hibernation**

**{Following Armour Installations: Absolute Containment Seals Against Environmental Dangers - Plus In-Built Hazard Shield & Anti-Grav Feature - Ultra Flexible Nano-Musculature Tesselation Underlay Allows For Amplified Speed ********- Uncharted Augmented Strength *8** & Complete Freedom of Movement - Energy Tank Reservoir 99x100 Units To Enhance The Optimal Gluino Exclusion Field - Five Reserve Tanks - Selective Traction - Atomic Grip - Dimensional Compression Storage Pockets - Concentrated Nova Vents Along Tron Lines - Energy Transfer Module - Ambidextrous Simian & Avian Articulation On Both Hands & Feet - Limited Partial Morphing Capabilities Past Rotatable Joints} 

**Morph Ball: Engaged - Inactive - Currently In Hibernation**

**{Transit Modules: Locomotion Jump - Negate Friction - Shine Run - Shine Spark Flight - Instantaneous Momentum Halter - 360 Degree Gravitonic Jet Pack - Shrink Mari - Kinetic Booster - Gyro Assimilation - Uni Directional Hovering Plus Flight - Screw Attack - Personal Teleporter}  
**

**ERROR! ARMOUR - WEAPONS AND MOVEMENT SYSTEMS OFFLINE - INTER-DIMENSIONAL BACKLASH HAS COMPROMISED CONTAGIOUS FILE SPACE FOR HIBERNATING APPLICATIONS - BEGINNING DEFRAGGING PROCEDURE...  
**

**Estimated Time Until Completion: 32 Elliptical Cycles - 4 Lunar Orbits - 19 Earth Rotations - 6 Earth Hours - 58 Earth Minutes - 11 Earth Seconds  
**

**Progression: 0.00%**

**Have A Pleasant Day! **

"Fuuuu - Fudge..." Aran growled.

* * *

On her way back to the castle, she distressingly had to relate to Hagrid how she had halted a small forest fire that had consumed a large dry hollow tree near the centre of the first wood. Rubeus fled into the dark trees, sobbing. Sam took no pleasure in the task or the deception. But she would be damned if Acromantula were in the same _country_ as the children living at this school, let alone a couple of leagues away from their play grounds. Hagrid was a gentle soul but rather naive when it came to treating dangerous non-native wildlife as pets.

Striding as if she were not affected by Gaia's petty limitations on the human form, Aran headed straight through the great castle's cloisters to reach the head of the Transfiguration Department's office. But a certain sight delayed her. Professor Archimedes Scamander of Charms had grasped a student roughly by the upper arm for evident misconduct, that was not what concerned her. What did it was the bamboo cane he brandished. Aran narrowed her eyes as he adjusted his hold and began to beat the raven haired boy across the calves and hamstrings, below the line of his shorts; other students winced in sympathy but didn't dare intervene. After the fifth blow, Scamander prepared to _continue_ flogging the now weeping child, only for his motion to halt as he raised the cane.

He turned to witness the mystery woman encircling his wrist with a grip of unassailable strength. Shocked, he couldn't even resist as Aran plucked the instrument of pain from his limp fingers and struck him with it once across the face, drawing a thin red angry line on his right cheek and forcing him to release the scruff of the boys robes.

"There. Hurt's doesn't it?" Samus chided with a voice of iron. The Charms Professor could only clutch his face with a mixture of rage and shame. "If you need the whip to teach a child, then you are unfit to be a teacher."

"How dare - " Scamander began, but he stopped as soon as Aran's look became truly ugly, it was the mask of peace that she wore so casually being ripped aside and in that instant; Archimedes didn't know whether he'd live to see the end of that day.

"Go. You're done." Aran enunciated with slow thunder, the cane turning to dust that trickled from her fist. Outraged at the blows to his authority, Scamander practically fled down the aisle, which rung with the cheers of the children. Samus was not finished yet though, with a wave of her hand, a tiny aura of her own formidable regenerative energies was shed and lathered over the third year's bleeding legs, he stood without grimacing. Surprised at the sudden absence of pain.

"Are you alright Mr... ?"

"Potter, Ma'am. Charlus Potter. I mean - yes, Ma'am thank you very much, but... Caw! You don't even know what _I did_ to deserve that."

"Was it something worthy of a biased beating, Mr. Potter?"

"Maybe..."

"A prank on your recently departed Professor?"

"How - how did you know?"

"Instinct. Corporal punishment is not enforced so zealously unless a personal harm has been wrought upon the punisher. And if he could not defend himself against your evidently embarrassing little stunt then in your mind's he doesn't deserve your respect in the first place. I'm aware of how you little _monsters_ operate." She said with a disarming grin. "The playground is not so different from a battlefield."

"You've fought in battles?" The Gryffindor chirped eagerly, his friends from the house of the brave gathered at her feet to hear tales of her exploits. But Aran was not so easily misled as she leaned down to peer at the boy with startling wisdom.

"Learn your lesson, young Potter. All your life you will be beset by fools that require your unwilling obedience, never let them make you lose sight of your goals. And if you can't be safe from them - then be careful of them. If I catch you being caught again, you'll know the life of a prankster won't be in your family line. And my detention would make you research your true calling seven hours a day until you were absolutely certain. Are we clear!"

"Crystal clear, Sir! Ma'am!" Charlus squeaked as he scampered after his fleeing class-mates. _"Brave indeed."_ Samus mused as she reached the entrance hall to look upon the panoramic window that displayed the Hogwarts' animal crest in detailed stained glass of red and gold, green and silver, blue and bronze and yellow and onyx.

_"Wonderful..."_ Aran thought with a hint of scorn. _"This magnificent building is relegated to housing a school founded by a chauvinistic zealot, a gormless barbarian, an unabashed wiseacre and a psychopathic racist. No wonder the cliques are characterized by certain traits. It is ludicrously encouraged."_

* * *

A few days hence, Albus had decided to meet their guest at a place of her choosing, considering he had been down in London that day. She apparently had important news to tell him and Dumbledore was quite certain of it's nature. He had come to the door of her choosing and entered to find a wing of the castle he had never stepped foot in. Magic permeated the air as thickly as the dust motes blazing from the shine of white enameled window ridges. Moving between the sparse book shelves and cobwebbed desks, Albus reached a new door and entered, to find a two hundred foot tall enclosed turret room.

"This building is hallowed ground, Albus. It does what it wants..." Samus remarked conversationally, reclining with nearly absurd poise on a high window ledge. Before the deputy could respond, Aran flicked a tarnished but obviously well cared for ID chip down and into his veined hands. He proceeded to examine it.

"... Citizen of... Earth Colony... K-2L... Seamus Aren?"

Sam laughed, a short snapping 'huh!' Before answering Albus' unspoken question: "it's my birth name, and it's pronounced 'Ah - Rahn. Zsah - Mus, Ah - Rahn'; _Brian_." Her voice dripping with friendly abashment.

"She who supplants... Like an Irish feminine version of - _James_, none the less. It is a good name. Strong yet speaking of growth and adaptability." He held the marker aloft and Samus summoned it to her palm to give it pride of place around a military ball chain necklace of eclectic tags. There must have been over ten upon it.

Not wanting to reiterate his offer of employment just yet, Albus drew attention to the elephant in the room: "I have never seen this area of the castle before..."

"Peaceful isn't it? This is one of the many places I come to contemplate the Universe. There is an - _energy_ here, all en-compassing, yet profound."

"The magic of the earth revived you, Samus. This place is now a part of you."

"It couldn't be any other way." Aran dropped to the floor without even bending her knees. "It allowed me to find the heart of the castle. What the Elves refer to as the 'come and go room' and decipher its Arithmantic Runes. The power of this place, like the most powerful ghosts that haunt its halls... It is a power one cannot see... Recondite powers that leave little mark of their presence. Powers that gave a Danish Geat the might of fifty men in either of his hands, that allowed a poor Hebrew carpenter's son to walk on water. Or for any individual to become immortal in both body and legend. The Earth is still yet rich with mystery for those willing to find it. And now I know this place of rest like I know myself. Utterly and ineradicably once more."

"This is very good news I take it?"

"Yes. But it means I now have to leave Hogwarts. At least for a while."

"Are you certain...?"

"There are things I _have_ to do. Places I have to visit - to put everything in perspective."

"I thought your memories had just returned?"

"They have, but they are jumbled in my mind, no order, no time. And since Veritaserum is useless on me..."

"I'm sorry to hear that, Samus. Just remember, there is _always_ a place waiting for you here."

Aran stepped forward and shook Dumbledore's proffered hand firmly: "I neglected to mention it before, but thank you, Albus. For _everything_."

"It was my pleasure, my dear."

"Enough of that 'my dear' business - I'm old enough to be your great-grandmother fifteen times over."

"Will you never cease to amaze?"

"Huh, don't hold your breath. We all have our secrets, Albus. Perhaps one day we can share them all together."

"Wouldn't you have too many to impart?"

"Never change, _old man_!"

"You as well, _old warrior_..."

* * *

The following morning, Dumbledore introduced Aran to his most valued companion. Deep in the mountainous hills surrounding Hogwarts. The Phoenix, Fawkes.

"You're bonded with a Mycenaean Fire Bird?" Since the first time he'd met her, Samus was reacting with clear and open wonder. "Or is it a Fenghuang?" She wondered.

Albus stroked the plumage of the magnificent animal as the beautiful familiar rested comfortably on his outstretched forearm.

"I believe _he_ is from Egypt, descended from the Solar Bennu's themselves, supposedly they were the first apostles of Ra in the creation of the world."

"Incredible. I have always had an affinity for - _birds_... Not that my foster parents were even related to birds, they weren't even arthropods. They were _aliens_ in every sense of the word. Birds always remind me of _them_, not the other way around. It was the way I felt regarding Humanity; they became the _true_ aliens when I returned."

"You don't consider yourself _Human_?"

"No. Oh, I _was_. So long ago..."

"... Well. You should get along with Fawkes famously then!" And indeed, the bird had already flapped its crimson and gold wings, to alight softly on Aran's shoulder, trilling Phoenix song all the while. And Aran's spine shivered as the harmony of a Chozo monastic choir echoed through - imparting ancient strength through an inner warmth.

"You claimed it was a _he_? I thought all Phoenixes were gender neutral? Or the yin to the dragon's yang?"

"They often are, but you'll find on your travels that Fawkes communicates through mental waves. It, at least to my mind, is rather masculine in form."

"_He_ wants to come along - with _me_?"

"You don't want to walk _all_ the way, do you?"

"True, most magical means of travel don't accept my energies and I _am_ circumnavigating the entire globe..."

"Splendid! You shall both keep each other company on this odyssey of yours. How long do you think you'll be gone?"

"A few years..."

Albus's face fell.

"But I'll write to you every week!" She added hastily, having become very fond of the kind-hearted genius. Dumbledore's smile at the promise of world-wide correspondence from a being as intelligent, if not more so, than himself; could have lit the frozen wastes of Planet Cyuun. Samus, by proxy, was fulfilling one of his oldest and most cherished dreams by exploring all the culture Earth had to offer and thereafter sharing it with him. Though his reasons for travel a life-time ago had not been anywhere near as noble; even if they were both self-serving.

"That makes me very glad to hear. I of course will send replies and notify you of what is occurring in the Magical community."

"It doesn't _bother_ _you_, does it? That I'm completely different from everybody else."

"We are all different, Samus. But my brother once told me, well, _shouted _at me really: 'it is not our _abilities_ that make us who we are - it is our _choices_.' I made mistakes and I paid for them, because I did not recognise the value of family, of _community_."

"Words we _all_ should live by. Your brother is very astute... For a goat-herd. ... I should go." She said with a smile of fond nostalgia.

"Travel safe and god speed to you, _Samus Aran_."

Dumbledore watched as Aran's form shrunk into the distance, crested the horizon; and was gone.

* * *

_Six years later_...

A ball of flame sprang into life, steaming a patch of the highland showers peppering the sparse tundra. The statuesque figure that had materialized, was garbed in a thick black traveling cloak over practical but oddly refined clothing, not anything that would have been worn in a time predominantly of tweed and wool. Her Phoenix companion roosted comfortably on her forearm, his mirage heat misting the rain drops of his newly burnished feathers. He had burned recently. The pair battled the wind and rain as they traversed the dark hillsides, September saw night coming quickly to this part of the far North but there was enough gaps through the thunderheads to witness a smattering of the aurora borealis, red, green and even the rarest blue. A fortuitous sign...

Aran mantled an ancient boulder that jutted from the rough landscape, walking the length of the volcanic plateau she looked out and across the misted landscape - to see a familiar lakeside mountain and the formidable, torch-lit keep that resided there through a curtained haze of precipitation.

Even from this distance, Aran could feel the currents of magic permeating the autumn air and loamy, moss covered earth, drenched through with the water of life. For all her ability to detect variegated conversions of energy, she could only harness one. Wizard-kind was powerful, she had no illusions regarding that, considering what she had seen in her travels, but as a society they were deeply flawed. Issues of race, blood purity, class.

It was back to the dark ages for Aran, at least in equal-opportunity outlook; but that was neither here nor there. She did not care to actively pursue evil in any of its forms anymore. But evil was evil. Lesser, greater, middling. She would know it when she saw it, and cosmically, she knew it was her lot to engage these monsters, a fate she did not begrudge.

As she neared the boundaries of the school, she reflected on the Hogwarts wards. True they would halt anyone with deliberately malign intentions from crossing into the grounds. But what of animals who operated on instinct? Fanatics who believed in the righteousness of their own destructive cause? And worst of all, those who hid beneath a thin veneer of civility, but were in reality a thousand times worse than a rabid beast. The institution had to be protected, such was the way of the world.

She had the means, and it was her duty to protect those who could not protect themselves. Inwardly, she hoped for calm, such as she had felt working in conservation, as a care worker, manual labourer, university lecturer, museum curator, explorer, guide, bodyguard, the intelligence services. Or even tinkering away with her Cornucopia inventions. And thought there was no shortage of conflict upon Gaia, she had abstained from war, hell, she hadn't raised her hand in violence for the longest time in living memory. And Aran had a _long_ memory.

What worried her was that insatiable _need_ for battle, bottled beneath the surface like Yellowstone Park. Nothing compared to the moment when life could be taken and preserved through terrible and some would say _irreparable_ means. Aran was a living dichotomy, a nurturer of existence and a messenger of the last breath. A true avatar of the Reaper. And in turn, no matter the hardships she had endured; fear and love were _her_ Gods and she would never stop offering up sacrifices of both friend and foe to that two-faced bastard. Fulfillment and suffering were inevitable, so she would _never_ concede her life when her old friend had seen fit to only tease her once more with blissful oblivion. She would meet her final companion as an equal and perhaps even as an idol of her own for Death to bow down to - in return.

Reaching the castle's main gates near Hogsmeade, Aran gestured with the first two fingers of her left hand and the Gothic railings parted; creaking all the while. _"No oil,"_ Sam mused, _"must mean Hagrid has taken over as Keeper of Keys." _Rubeus was a curmudgeon. Endearing but aggravating in his priorities none the less. Though they had a shared interest in magical fauna, Aran privately wanted to make him take a serious re-evaluation of his duty to the children under his care - not to creatures unfit to be familiars.

One sodden trek up the path, over the lawns and through the entrance. Samus and Fawkes were inside and better for being out of the rain. To their right, they could hear the hubbub of the start-of-term feast.

"What say you to an entrance, Fawkes?"

The Phoenix sung a hesitant answer.

"Don't tell me you're shy!" Aran said with mock-surprise. She received a reply in the form of a shorter, even more non-committal note.

"Well," Aran continued, searching rapidly. "... Albus will be there."

Fawkes was unsure.

"You don't have to leave your perch if that's what's got you -"

Fawkes chirped happily, hopping to her right shoulder and fluttering his dazzling gold and ocher inner wing feathers.

"Alright, Newborn." She chuckled affectionately, tickling his chin and causing him to lean into her stroking digits. He enjoyed such pampering. "You can stay right there through the feast. But we need to find you a partner of your _own_ kind."

The gentle cuff around the back of her head, was the Fire Bird's rejoinder, along with a sharp whistle that appropriated for a remarkably human huff of sarcastic acknowledgement.

"And you say _I'm_ the show boater?" Aran took hold of the beautifully carved, ceiling high double doors and threw them wide.

"Now that the sorting ceremony has been completed. I have a few start-of-term notices to announce." Brian sonorously projected, so much so that his old friend had heard the exact cue for her dramatic entry: "Accordingly, our new staff appointments are - "

'BOOM!'

Albus clapped eyes on the individual framed in the Great Hall's archway. He couldn't believe that same held sight. Especially since when he had last received a letter from her, she had apparently been in the Pacific!

Students and faculty craned their necks alike to get a look at the Phoenix bearer, while some Seventh Years gaped in remembrance at the familiar face that had been etched to memory during their midnight awakening all those nights ago. For Samus had cast back her dripping cowl to reveal herself to the assembly. Her hair was shorter, just below shoulder length, scraped back and braided on one side in a thin distinctive bang. She had aged exceedingly well since her reanimation, she now stood six foot nine inches tall, broader in the shoulder, invigorated from her journey.

As Aran strode over the threshold, many students were shocked to see her Familiar but many still were even more shocked to see their usually taciturn headmaster rush from his podium, descend the teacher's dais and rush up the central isle to greet the newcomer with a kiss to both cheeks and a gentlemanly proffering of his arm to escort her to her seat of honour. (On the centre throne chair's right side.) No-one knew, but Aran and Dumbledore were discussing her placement in the faculty a mile a minute through their shared psychic link with Fawkes. There was much murmuring from both staff and student alike.

"Everyone!" Dumbledore spoke for quiet once Aran had been seated and had removed her long coat. "May I introduce a very old and capable friend; who has just returned from a half decade's world-wide adventure. Our first new, full-time multiple doctrine stand-in teacher - and successful applicant of the long considered post as Head of Security, Professor Samus Aran!"

Polite applause echoed through the hall, though some of the elder males were a bit more enthusiastic in their welcome. Aran raised a hand and summoned her commanding aura, pleased to note that most of the students quietened near instantaneously without even realising the effect she was having on them.

_"Still got it." _Sam nodded inwardly, planning to start as she meant to go on. Give a child an inch and they would take a mile. Especially since she had heard that Albus had passed a bill to get corporal punishment banned at Hogwarts, a revolutionary reform for the times. Not that Sam subscribed to physical reinforcement but she could bet some milder teachers would be taken advantage of; being a Professor or a paramilitary Commander were not so different after all.

Once the banquet had been concluded, and the students escorted to their dormitories. Dumbledore invited Aran to his first floor office off the interior courtyard for a nip of fire whiskey and to catch up.

"I thought you were headmaster, now?"

"I am in all but name." Albus said as he poured two fingers of Ogden's Finest. "Dippet was taken ill and is considering full retirement next December. The governors haven't made it official just yet, but for all intents and purposes, I am the Head of this fine boarding house."

"Huh. You look worse for wear, old timer. A full-time political career _and_ running this place. It's no wonder you've gone grey before your time."

"We cannot all be as lucky as you, Samus. You haven't aged a day."

"Thank you." Aran replied, accepting the shot glass from the white beard. "You have a deputy?"

"_You_ have enough responsibilities with keeping us safe and learned, not to mention your - _side projects_."

"That's not a 'yes'."

"I will look into it and I _will_ hand over some of my duties in the Wizengamot to friends of my family."

"Just like that... I've convinced you." Aran stated sceptically.

"Why do you think I rejoiced at your return? You're the only one who can, my dear."

"It seems someone has to. You'd work yourself into an early grave otherwise." She studied the many lengths of meticulous script-stuffed parchment littered over the aging wizard's desk. Aran looked up.

"It seems that academia is not the worst of your problems either." She noted. "Who is this young man?" She posited, picking up the file to examine it closer while downing her drink.

"A former alumnus of this school, a prodigy. There have been - _disturbing_ reports of his activities; both on the continent and here on the mainland."

"Blood purist?"

"Worse. He's a leader of men. A Tin Hitler if I ever saw one, relying on prejudices, past grievances and hide-bound tradition to gather extremist support from both the underclasses and the houses of the Wizengamot, along with collecting those in high-profile Ministry positions."

"You've been curtailing his power politically?"

"Yes, old friend. But I am tired of saving others from their own mistakes. I learned long ago the cost of manipulation on a grand scale."

"Some would argue that government-sanctioned education is one step away from such propaganda."

"True, but the lines between enlightenment and zealotry are difficult to distinguish at best. The Ministry has no active presence within these halls. Hogwarts could be the staging ground of a revolution that would see the end of wizard-kind; or it could mark the resurgence of a society of tolerance and peace."

"And you say the game still holds no interest for you, Dumbledore... It will and always has concerned me to look to young ones future's, people in our position can enjoy the time given to us. But we live for others first, guidance, protection, sometimes - even intervention. I want to know which page you're on, Albus. Why do you want to secure the future? And what are you willing to sacrifice to protect it?"

" ... My family... Moved to Godric's Hollow in 1889, there had been an - _incident_ in our home prior."

* * *

Two hours later, Aran exited Dumbledore's office, musing on the history her friend had related. He had waited to tell that story for many long years. Aran could work quite comfortably with a redeemer. She had been one herself. No man alive could get a lie passed the Hunter. It did make social interaction somewhat prosaic, but then again, even Aran could not defend against experienced liars of omission...

Liars, betrayers, traitors: she had been both the deceived and the deceiver. While she would ally with this man, she was her own agent of change. Never again would she demean her integrity by fawning at the feet of those of position and rank. She made what was deserved of the world and fought against upset and chaos, but then, when one such as she had the power to change the world - what could one do to live with one's self if they didn't try to make it a better place.

Although Aran had concealed quarters within the castle, by painstakingly re-creating the Arithmantic Runes that conjured the Room of Requirements adaptive flux space to her at any time. She had also sealed the original room by altering its glyphs and had decided to set up a permanent home-away-from-home within the Forbidden Forest.

So within a couple of days, Aran had raised a comfortable cabin for herself in the foothills of the wooded mountains. Utilizing a Chozo fusion of future technology and natural materials, her very comfy nest was soon complete with its own unadulterated water supply, plumbing, heat, craft workshop, vegetable and herb garden, even clean environmental power; meshing with nature and the environment while being under the radar of the Centaur herds. She had everything she needed to remain self-sufficient from the rest of the school community. It utilized a great deal of swooping lines, there were no angles to be seen or heard; the interior was both cozy and closeted and yet appeared well-lit and spacious; due to the variable ceilings.

Beneath the Black Lake, Samus toiled to complete a project that many were not in the know about; Albus included...

"Welcome to my secret underwater lair." Aran joked as Dumbledore exited the turbo-lift with a look of astonishment on his aging features. One could quite clearly see through the nearly the entire width of the lake thanks to the Denzium melted dura-glass that made up the logistics and command centre. Although there were multiple monitors and PC's hundreds of years more advanced than anything humanity would build. The center-piece was a conference-sized table detailing a live map of the school and grounds. Though the Hunter was as capable of employing sorcery as any non-magical, she more than made up for it in the realms of Herbology, Potions, Arithmancy and Runes, with a little help from Albus when magical forces could not help but be employed.

"You have been busy... I _love_ what you've done with the place." Quipped the Warlock, amazed by the alien geometry and whirring devices that put his own collection of gizmos to shame.

"Some things can be put in order in less than a decade. Building a new ship though, even _with_ all the materials I've recovered and shipped to Britain. It'll take me long into the twenty-first century to finish this great project of mine."

Dumbledore raised the blueprints up to his crooked nose and popped his half-moon spectacles on to take a gander: "it certainly looks complex."

Aran plucked the schematic from his fingers and turned it the right way up.

"Ah! Thank you! I've read some of the works of Wells and Asimov but I never imagined I'd meet a denizen of a far-flung world..."

"I'm only a small part of a greater whole, Albus. Only a small part."

* * *

It was on a snowy winter's evening in late January of 1956 that Aran met _him_.

She stood in what had once been the office of Armando Dippet, now Albus Dumbledore's, hands at rest, posture at ease, to vet the young prospective Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor. The meeting was late. Green yellow streaks of light touched the horizon for the sun had disappeared and a blizzard began to whip the castle's battlements as night set in.

Exactly upon the appointed time, there was a knock on the door which merited Albus to welcome the visitor inside. It opened to reveal a pale man that Aran immediately didn't trust as far as she could spit. He exuded an air of perfect civility, but apart from reeking of dark magic like corpses in a death chamber; she could see that all aspects of his façade were just that. He wore a 'person' suit. A disguise that couldn't possibly conceal the atrocities that danced behind those disturbing, baby blue eyes; that sometimes pulsed with blood, his pupils were diamonds and aside from classically handsome features - he looked for all intents and purposes. _Wrong_.

He wore his worsening scars of soul experimentation like some sort of twisted badge of pride. Aran was always willing to take things for more than their face value, but magic made decisions of character remarkably simple in this regard. It was there for all those not_ blind_ to see. He was an unabashed megalomaniacal monster. A monster with terrible forces at his command, Aran had often been told she feared nothing alive or dead. That was a damn lie.

She feared just as much as any sentient being, if not more so. It was why she had stayed alive for so long. The secret was - she forged her own fear into will; _pure intent_. The complete and utter destruction of any threat to her and home. This gave her every advantage over men who suppressed their fears, or worse, divorced themselves from such a _weakness _entirely; instead of learning to confront it, to harness it, to turn it into something positive. The steel of benevolent emotion, tempered in the waters of survivalist logic was in its directed purest form - unstoppable.

"Good evening, Tom." Albus welcomed easily from his high-backed chair. "Won't you sit down?"

The _man_ called Tom Riddle didn't even spare the second occupant of the room a glance from where she stood in the shadows atop the balcony, smoking one of her Blue Root cigars placidly.

_"Arrogant ignoramus."_ Aran mused, pleased at the thought.

"Thank you," Riddle said politely, taking the offered chair across the desk from Dumbledore who immediately stood up to serve his guest some wine. While Albus busied himself with the glasses, Aran studied the interloper further, cataloging... Dumbledore and Riddle exchanged pleasantries but eventually the Hunter decided to join the parley.

"They do not call me 'Tom' anymore," he said. "These days I am known as - "

"_Lord_ - _Voldemort_." The silent up till now warrior spoke with just a hint of menace; causing both men to affix their gazes upwards. "A tad pretentious but considering what I've heard of you, _young Master Riddle_. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. The stories of your adventures around the globe are somewhat notorious."

As expected, the man's pale slightly serpentine features twisted momentarily. All too easily believing she was mocking him. But just as quickly, he'd risen from his chair to profess the perfect gentlemen, taking her hand as she descended the stairs and dismounted the lower step.

"You have me at a disadvantage. I don't believe I've had the pleasure, Miss...?"

"Aran. Samus Aran."

"_Charmed_..." He nearly hissed, the warmth in his voice never softening those pitiless eyes of sky, lighter even than Dumbledore's. When he bowed to kiss the back of her hand, Aran half-expected a forked tongue to slide across her knuckles. She barely repressed a shudder. She could feel it now. He was ill. _Sick_ _inside_. His very presence repulsed her and she was _not_ easily nauseated.

"Madame Aran here is the school's new huntswoman, head of security and the primary Keeper of Keys, Tom. I'm afraid you just caught us discussing the latest _collateral measures_ being put into place. I hope you don't - ?"

"No, not at all. The safety of Hogwarts and her students is of _paramount_ importance. _You_ must have received my letters of recommendation, I assume?" Riddle directed his question to Aran as he was corralled back into his chair, while she chose to sit on the edge of the desk, still situated in a higher position of authority.

"I did. They were _glowing_ with praise, with backers such as yours, _any _occupation in the top echelons of government would be yours for the taking."

"Ah, but Tom and I are in some ways kindred spirits. to wizards such as ourselves: forgive me, for _all_ present - there can be nothing more important than passing on ancient skills, helping hone young minds. If I remember correctly, Tom. You once saw the attraction in teaching too."

"I see it still. You must indulge an old student, Dumbledore. I have often wondered why _you _- who is so _often_ called upon to advise on international policy in the ICW and who has,_ twice_, I believe been offered the post of Minister - "

"Three times at the last count, actually." Albus ribbed. "But the Ministry never called to me as a career. Again, something we have in common, I think."

Riddle inclined his head, unsmiling and took another sip of wine. Since Dumbledore refused to breach the ensuing silence that stretched between them now; it was up to Aran to break the ice.

"This _is_ an interview, boy." She mock-yawned, standing to walk over and pet the awakened Fawkes. "Speak your peace."

"I have returned," he said, with some annoyance at Aran's implicit order. "Later, perhaps, than when I'd intended to but I have returned none the less. To request again what Professor Dippet said I was once too young to have. I have come here tonight to ask that you permit me to return to this castle; to teach. I am sure you both must know I have seen and done much since I left this place. I could show and tell your students things they can gain from no other wizard _alive_."

_"I'll bet you could,"_ Aran scoffed inwardly, scratching Fawkes behind the ear.

Dumbledore considered Voldemort over the top of his own goblet for a while before speaking.

"Yes, I certainly _do_ know that you have seen and done much since leaving us. As my colleague here has made clear, rumours of your - _doings_, have reached your old school, Tom. I should be sorry to believe _half_ of them."

Riddle's expression remained impassive as he began to speak but there could be no mistaking the scarlet that pulsed through once white sclera. "Greatness inspires envy, envy engenders spite, spite spawns lies. You of all people should know this, Dumbledore."

Aran couldn't let that one go unanswered. "You call it 'greatness', what you have been exploring, do you?"

"Certainly, I have read journals on your own investigations into advanced and obscure Arithmancy, Miss Aran. _We_ are experimenters, and I have _experimented_; I have pushed the boundaries of magic further, perhaps, than they have _ever_ been pushed - "

"Of _some_ kinds of magic," Dumbledore corrected him quietly. "Of others, you remain - forgive me... _Woefully_ _ignorant_."

For the first time during the meeting, Riddle smiled. Aran wished he hadn't. It was a taut leer, an evil thing. She had to restrain herself from vaulting the desk and doing the entire world a favour.

"The old argument," he said softly. "But nothing I have seen in the world has ever supported your famous pronouncements that _love_ is more powerful than my kind of magic, Headmaster."

Aran wanted to snap that he must have a childishly narrow view of power, but instead the words Albus had once told her came to the forefront. "Perhaps you have been looking in the wrong places." She suggested.

Voldemort inclined his head, as if validating her point. "Well, then, what better place to start my fresh researches than here, at Hogwarts? Will you permit me to return? Will you let me share my knowledge and experience with your students? I place myself and my talents at your disposal. I am yours to command."

Aran's brow creased as she exchanged glances with Dumbledore, the elderly wizard only hesitated for a moment before saying strongly: "and what will become of those whom _you_ command? What will happen to those who have dubbed themselves - or so rumour - has it - the Death Eaters?"

Riddle looked less than pleased at this unwelcome news. "My - _friends_. Will carry on without me I am sure."

"I am very glad you _consider_ them to be friends," said Aran brightly. "However, we were both under the impression that they were more in the order of - _servants?_"

"You are mistaken." Voldemort nearly snarled.

But Aran's interrogation didn't abate. "Then if I were to pop down to the Hog's Head this fine eve, I would _not_ find a group of them - Nott, Rosier, Mulciber, Dolohov - awaiting your hopefully triumphant return? Devoted friends _indeed_ to travel this far with you on a night such as this; _merely_ to wish you luck as you _attempt_ to secure a teaching post."

"Such an _omniscient_ perception you possess, Madame Aran. I am _honoured_ to be at the centre of your attentions."

"You'd honour me more by paying me the compliment of rectifying your ways. Pah, like so many wizards, you_ hear_, but you do not _listen_."

Before Voldemort could reply, Dumbledore interjected. "Tom, let us speak openly. Why have you come here tonight, surrounded by henchmen, to request a job we all know you do not want?"

Voldemort looked coldly surprised.

"A job I do not want? On the contrary, Dumbledore, I want it very much."

"Oh, you _want_ to come back to Hogwarts, but you do not want to _teach_ any more than wanted to when you were eighteen. What is it you are after, Tom? Why not try an _open_ request for once?"

Riddle made a sneer unworthy of his aristocratic heritage. "If neither of you want to give me a job - "

"Of course we don't," said Dumbledore. "And I don't think for a moment you expected us to. Nevertheless, you came here, you asked, you must have had a _purpose_..."

Voldemort stood up sharply, chair sliding back with a harsh grinding sound of wood on stone. "This is your final word?" All his rage was directed at the Headmaster, for whom he had known much longer, completely ignoring Aran's admittedly unnoticeable tensing for a physical confrontation.

"It is." Dumbledore stated, also standing.

"Then we have nothing more to say to each other."

"No, nothing," said Dumbledore, and Aran could not quite believe the notes of unmistakeable sadness and regret infusing Dumbledore's next words. "The time is long gone when I could frighten you with a burning wardrobe and force you to make repayment for your crimes. But I wish I could, Tom... I wish I could..."

If Aran had been a few millennia younger, she would have jumped immediately to the attack when Riddle's hands twitched for a weapon. As if longing to wrap them around Dumbledore's throat. Instead she crossed the room and opened the office door for him to leave. With a swirl of his sable travelling cloak, Voldemort was walking past her. In that moment fixing her with a look of similar loathing. Aran stared the murderer down, before closing the door on the hem of his cape and spoiling the dramatic exit. There was a sharp ripping sound of costly fabric, followed by low cursing and the rapidly retreating foot-steps down the spiral staircase.

Dumbledore beamed. "You know what you have to do, my friend."

"He'll never see me coming."

Through the halls of Hogwarts, Tom Riddle strode as if he were King of the World. He marched up the main staircase to reach the seventh floor. After several twists and turns he'd entered the East Wing of the castle and halted opposite a tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy's attempt to teach trolls ballet. _"The fool,"_ he thought.

Voldemort longed to make this area more worthy of his power and prestige. A monument to the wizard who had discovered the deepest mysteries of this great fortress. With a swish of his yew wand, powerful yet untraceable concealing enchantments were raised along the corridor. Holding onto the antique box beneath his tailored vest, he closed his unsettling eyes and walked back and forth three times, thinking: _"show me what I alone have discovered."_ Over and over, he stopped and raised his bone white eye-lids to reveal...

Nothing.

_"What?! Impossible!" _Riddle tried again, this time murmuring to himself: _"show me the room of hidden things." _Hardly daring to believe that someone else had discovered this secret. When that also failed, he was filled with a mixture of relief and rage. He cast a swathe of powerful Rune revealing charms, repaired those that had faded and transferred a large amount of his magical signature into the stone as if by doing so he could bend the castle to his will.

Upon his third passing, he opened his eyes to jump back in surprise. Aran was standing right in front of him. Mere inches away. How?! He hadn't heard a thing!

"No, no, no." She chastised him gently. "It's the keystone you have to alter and that takes several rare potion fumigation treatments and specialized alchemical equipment to even _reveal_ the correct Arithmantic sequence. Do you understand?"

Tom could not speak for shock, he took another step away from this indescribable woman.

"Of course the limestone inscriptions can only be altered _once_, else you risk catastrophic magical cascade effects. Did you actually _read_ my articles? Let alone understand them?"

Riddle retreated further.

"I didn't think so. Now _leave_. Get out, or I'll _kill_ you."

Tom turned tail and fled. Samus stood still. Then she laughed deep from the belly. That _had_ been easier than expected.

With that, she decided to turn in for the night, in her quarters on the sixth floor. But once she reached the door, her hand stayed from unlocking it. Adrenaline circulated far too strongly for her to even _consider_ settling in with a book and brandy, to meditate or lucid dream the night away. She pocketed her keys - and began to walk.

Her feet carried her towards the entrance hall, from the frosted windows she could see a solitary figure trudging fast through the building snows.

Within minutes she'd reached the darkening high street of Hogsmeade. Easily catching up with Tom, who'd had to wade through the crushed ice while she walked atop it, not slipping once.

Five men exited the pub, stopping cold at the solitary figure atop the drifts who confronted them, back-lit by the formidable castle, colourful dusk and a curtain of heavy snow flakes.

"That's her. She's the one." Riddle hissed to his lackeys. Before, as the leader of the small gang, he stepped forward; not wishing to lose face in front of them.

He approached warily until they were centimetres apart, literally face to face.

The Knights of Walpurgis waited with bated breath...

"_Legilemens_." Voldemort whispered, fixing his eye-line on the windows to the soul. He cackled mirthlessly when his mental attack easily passed into her consciousness. She had no skill in Occluding her thoughts what so ever.

But then everything went wrong. Instead of finding the triggers to invade and control memories, physical ad chemical sectors and even subconscious actions. There was just a great blackness, that was slowly lit by stars. Billions. _Trillions_ even.

_"Welcome..." _Aran's voice echoed around and from everywhere at once.

_"What have you done?!"_ Riddle screamed, unwilling to believe he had been outmaneuvered _three times_, let alone once within a single half hour!

_"Me? You entered without permission. But if you'd rather I leave you alone..."_

The invisible ground beneath him fell away and Tom felt himself plummeting through the endless blackness of space; it was the single most terrifying experience of his entire life. To be lost without direction, time, or light save for those disorienting sparks of white.

_"Stop! Stop this! Or you'll suffer!"_

_"You invaded my mind plane. In here I give the commands_. _Here I speak the threats. Here - I am God. And you are nothing." _

_"I will find a way out of here!" _

_"They say you don't dream in cryo. But I've crossed the Universe over a hundred thousand times in my lifetime. It gives you _some_ inkling of the scale. Even if you floated for an eternity you wouldn't escape. And while I continue on your body will be standing in the high-street; until you die of thirst and exposure."_

_"Foolish witch! I am _immortal_!" _

_"Then you _might_ be able to conceive how _long_ you'd stay here for. Unless... _I_ release you."_

_"I'll give you _anything!_"_

_"You merely have to promise me _one_ thing..." _

After a silence that stretched indeterminably long. The two figures shifted. Aran leaned down to growl lowly in Riddle's unblinking waxen mask of a face.

"Stay _out,_ of my territory..."

No more words were spoken. Voldemort flinched involuntarily - and backed down. Saving face by vanishing into a pillar of black smoke that soared far above. His followers apparated away after him.

Aran stood proud. A sensation akin to a strong breeze blowing away the haze of heat permeated her spirit. She spread her arms, left the ground behind and took to the sky as if the world had turned to her design.

Her blood singing.


End file.
